


Mykonos or Bust

by jat_sapphire



Category: The Professionals (TV 1977)
Genre: M/M, post-episode s04e06 Discovered in a Graveyard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:48:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22558150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jat_sapphire/pseuds/jat_sapphire
Summary: "Lately, Bodie had been specialising in air hostesses."  This is a response to the Discovered in a LiveJournal challenge "Discovered in a Winter Holiday."
Relationships: William Bodie/Ray Doyle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Mykonos or Bust

Lately, Bodie had been specialising in air hostesses. They didn't expect him to be interested beyond this night, just wanted a good meal with someone attractive and amusing, maybe a little dancing or a show, and a good shag. And they knew other air hostesses, so he could double with Doyle.

Since the shooting, Bodie felt nervous and unhappy when he spent too long away from Doyle, as if some nutter were going to break in with a gun anytime, anywhere, and leave Doyle lying on another rug in a pool of blood, the imagined sight alone enough to empty Bodie's own heart of blood and his lungs of breath. Without even consciously thinking of it, Bodie would find himself panting. The restaurant or car or even his own flat would be grey around him, full of a fog of anxiety that only Doyle's living presence could clear away.

Ray wasn't eating enough yet, either, so sitting across from him in a restaurant or pub let Bodie bear witness as the fork moved from a plateful of pasta or steak and chips into that cupid's-bow mouth, track the movement as Ray chewed and swallowed, and catch the glint in his eye as he watched Bodie watch him. The sight was like food and drink to Bodie, too. The birds toyed with salads while Bodie ate a man's meal and oversaw Ray doing slight justice to the chef's culinary arts.

Tonight, Doyle's date was a hostess whom Bodie had also pulled, named Debbie, with reddish-brown hair almost the same shade as Doyle's own, and similarly hazel-green eyes. The elusive likeness teased Bodie so much that he found it even harder to look away as the two curly heads bent together, as Doyle fed the girl a bite of his steak and nibbled her neck as she ate and giggled. She turned and kissed him, not too deeply but as if his taste was as good as the food's. Bodie was sure it was. He shifted a little in his seat and tried to think of suitable public conversation.

"If we go on holiday, say next month sometime, where do you suggest?" he asked his own date, Ella, and wound his finger in a soft blonde curl to give it a little tug. She looked thoughtful, which as far as Bodie had seen was not true, but cute as a kitten trying to decide to pounce on a string.

"If it was my hols, I'd go to the Greek islands," she said at last. "We laid over at Mykonos, and it was brilliant! The town is all white, and the sea so blue--beautiful! The beaches are great. And--" she giggled-- "the men are like gods. Greece, you know, so many gays and they take great care of themselves." She sighed theatrically. "Such a waste, you know, but a girl can still look."

Debbie grinned too, although she seemed not to have been following the conversation. Doyle lifted his chin and looked at her with his eyes half-shut, the hunting look he got when he was planning to get his leg over. Something twanged in Bodie's chest. He wished suddenly that he could watch Doyle and Debbie at it, to see Doyle's muscles flexing and his skin glowing with sweat, see him lowering and lifting his head and the way he'd look when he came. The way he'd heave in air, gasping and panting with the joy of his release.

Blood thundered in Bodie's veins and he felt his cock stir and his face heat.

Doyle stared straight at him as if he were reading Bodie's mind, or his red face at least. Bodie put his cheek against Ella's and then slid down to her neck, kissing, pretending it was her soft bounty that was turning him on and not Doyle.

But he knew, himself, and suspected that he wasn't fooling his partner, either.

The meal wound down, and Bodie reluctantly decided to forgo dessert, since he'd be the only one eating it. The girls went off to the WC together, and Bodie found himself staring at Doyle again. He looked a bit pale, his eyes shadowed. Tired. "You look knackered, mate," he said impulsively.

"Am, ta," Doyle replied with a self-deprecating smile. Bodie held on to the seat of his chair, because if he had not, he would have gone to his partner and wrapped his arms around him, held him close and safe until he slept and until he woke in the morning.

"Time to call it a night, then?" Bodie asked tenderly.

"Don't wan'a spoil your evening."

"Nothing to spoil, really." He didn't want Ella. He watched Doyle's face watching his own fork rubbing back and forth against the plate, and let himself want what he saw. Those hands on him. Those eyes looking at him, that mouth. _That mouth._

The women were back before he'd looked his fill. He'd never have his fill of Ray, he knew.

All the way to the birds' hotel, as the streetlamps flashed in the car windows and striped them with garish light, Bodie thought of island hols, of Doyle in a skimpy swimsuit, his tan against the sand and his teeth bright as the lamps when he laughed. His skin warm from the sun and damp from running about or the sea, wet from bathing. Wet and warm and happy.

Deb kissed Doyle's cheek and Ella winked at Bodie, but they didn't ask the men up to their hotel room, and Bodie found he didn't mind a bit. His mind was still full of sun and sand and sea … and Doyle. "We should really go, ask Cowley for the time and go to Mykonos," he said as he negotiated a turn.

Doyle took his time responding, watching Bodie drive, and Bodie felt the gaze on the side of his face like sunlight. "Dates too? Or just us?"

Bodie pulled the car to the kerb and turned to look at Doyle full-face. "Just us?" he said, sounding more tentative than he wanted. Doyle grinned widely, and Bodie felt a rush of happiness and reached for him. But the shift column was in the way, and he ended up with a hand on Doyle's shoulder and a grin of his own that felt doting and foolish. "Gotta keep an eye on you, I reckon," and it was nothing but the truth, he knew.

Doyle knew as well, by the look on his face. "And vice versa," he said.

"Especially the vice," Bodie said, and felt his face might break wide open with the smile that was splitting it. Doyle gave a little crack of laughter and pushed himself up in the seat to lean over and kiss Bodie's upper lip in the center, lightly, certainly.

"You in practise?" he asked.

"Never enough," Bodie said, starting the car again. "Yours?"

"Sure," Doyle said, settling down in the seat. "Happy to help you out."

There was no sun. No sand. No sea. But Bodie felt on holiday already. 


End file.
